Day 14 - Wednesday, May 26
The isn't too much to say about our last day. The agenda was very simple - fly home. First we dropped off the car a got a lift to the airport terminal. It was raining fairly heavily, but it didn't seem to matter any more. Except for the persistent wind and the rain in Sterling, we had good weather the whole trip. While waiting for our flight we tried to get some information about how much were allowed to take home duty free, but no one seemed to know what we were talking about. We also exchanged all of our pounds for dollars. The KLM flight to Amsterdam was no problem. For some reason, I couldn't figure out what language they used for the safety instructions until Susan reminded me were flying a Dutch airline.
On final approach to Schipool Airport, I saw two authentic Dutch windmills, which is twice as many as we have at home. We have found that Schipool is like all other major international airports - perennially under construction. As always, we browsed in the gift shops, although we hadn't a clue how much anything cost since all the prices were in whatever currency they use in the Netherlands. We boarded our packed KLM 747 and flew to Detroit. KLM and Northwest are partner airlines, but we found KLM to be better than Northwest.
At Detroit, we found that we were way below the allotted amount we could bring into the country duty free. We claimed our luggage and breezed through customs with nothing to declare. We were amused by the party in front of us. There were four middle aged women coming home from a trip to Europe. They had a cart filled to the ceiling with luggage. I counted enough for at least two large suitcases and two carry-on sized bags for each of them. I can't imagine what they had in there, but at the customs desk, all had to pay a large duty on the stuff they were bringing back. The porter they had hired to tote their belongings didn't seem to be having nearly as much fun as the four women. For all my worries about bringing too much, from what I could observe, we traveled lighter than most of the people getting off the plane.
It was then we encountered our first taste of Northwest incompetence. At Detroit, the International terminal is far removed from the main terminal. The only way to get from one to the other is by a shuttle bus. So after clearing customs, a couple of 747's worth of passengers were crammed into the end of a narrow corridor waiting for the next bus to come. Finally, after about 15 minutes this tiny little shuttle showed up. There was a whole line of busses right outside the door, but apparently there were no drivers available. Fortunately, we were near the front of the line and got on the second bus load. I can't imagine how the people at the end of the line would make their connecting flights on time.
Since we had no way of knowing which gate our plane was leaving from,
we had no idea where to get off the bus. Of course we guessed wrong
and took the long walk to the other end of the airport. At the gate,
we found this wasn't the correct flight. Apparently, they had changed
flight numbers so we took another hike to get to the correct gate.
We boarded the Northwest plane on time, but then waited and waited.
Finally, the pilot explained that they were waiting for a fuel truck.
Then after fueling we waited some more. This time, the pilot explained
that there was a malfunctioning warning light in the cockpit and they had
to wait for some maintenance paperwork to be filed before they could take
off. When we finally landed, we were all reunited with many hugs
and kisses. I told my father that he had better drive us home, since
I couldn't be trusted to drive on the right side of the road. Everyone
was glad that we were home.
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